Nothing Ever Truly Ends
by Little Fate
Summary: Robert's father betrays him deeply and in response to that Robert acts out, trying to tarnish their name until retribution is made. Cue pickpocket - Bryan Kuznetsov - and the bizarre alliance formed from two equally, desperate beybladers trying to find a way to survive in their own world. [Slash][Bryan/Robert][Robert/Bryan]
1. The Initial Meeting With

**Title:** Nothing Ever Truly Ends  
**Summary:** Robert's father betrays him deeply and in response to that Robert acts out, trying to tarnish their name until retribution is made. Cue pickpocket - Bryan Kuznetsov - and the bizarre alliance formed from two equally, desperate beybladers trying to find a way to survive in their own world. [Slash][Bryan/Robert][Robert/Bryan]

**Warnings**: If Robert/Bryan making out freaks you out, please back out right now. If you do not like the thought of any beyblade characters coming to emotional/mental/physical harm then back out. (If it eases some minds, there is no sexual abuse / rape in this fic. nor Abbey-angsty-boo-hoo-ness) Sexual shenanigans and dirty jokes abound. Swearing like drunken angry sailors too.

**AN: **

I thought I made Robert too sexually naive before. He's much more 'alpha' and direct in terms of relationships now. Bryan's no less demanding, he's just more cautious about outcomes and the consequences to these. The pervertedness has been balanced out now! Haha. This fanfiction started off by thinking mainly about group dynamics. So, loads of interactions from Ian/Spencer/Tala and Bryan all different-ish. (Ian's awesome). So, I'm really excited to start writing this.

Last thing, y'know about the _**sex**_ and all. I'm not sure I'm comfortable upload say a "lemon" onto FFNET, just in case it went over the M rating into the MA. So, scenes with sex in them may be uploaded onto a blog - and a FFNET friendly version will be here. But more on that when it happens.

* * *

**The Initial Meeting With**

* * *

Robert never believed he would condone theft, never mind actually be delighted to see it happen to a close friend of his father's. Only a few feet away was Sir Edwin, an older gentleman with wheat coloured hair that had begun to turn silver at the roots. The Italian leather wallet that was fished out of a pocket resembled his older skin. As quickly as Robert had seen the wallet, it was gone again - into the back pocket of someone he wasn't sure even belonged here. Although delightful, odd.

How did this person, who Robert was struggling to place, manage to enter a private gentlemen's club? As much as he was trying to keep a low profile now by idly chatting to the barman, he didn't belong. Not if the suit was anything to go by. Unsure of whether or not to comment on the stranger's identity Robert kept quiet. Occasionally, Sir Edwin would walk passed this stranger and still he noticed nothing, yet Robert was aware the man had checked his phone - an archaic model if Robert had ever seen one - at least five times after taking his prize.

Why was he waiting there? Did he want to be caught? Was this a ruse? Perhaps, he wished to take a few more items before departing? Slipping a hand into his pocket Robert realised he still had his, so he wasn't caught out. Yet. The face irked him. Robert was sure he'd seen it before. At first, the thought of perhaps an old fling sprung to mind. No, no one like that here. He made sure the two lifestyles would never interchange so easily. No, he was . . . Pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt the remnants of a hangover, Robert tried to concentrate. Bryan? Bryan Ka... Bryan Ku... Bryan - a beyblader. Certainly not one who could enter into such an esteemed place without help.

Bryan checked his phone again - what kind was that? Robert hadn't even seen one of those in years. This time Bryan slid off his seat and approached Sir Edwin. What was going on? Bryan returned the wallet and headed in the direction of the door. Ignoring the call of thanks and offer of a drink. Again: what was going on? Why? What? If it were to break the ice what benefit did overlooking their offer do? Robert shook his head and stood up. If there were one phrase Robert had to remember it was, curiosity killed the cat. He wanted to know what _that_ display was all about. He would find out regardless of the required method.

"Excuse me," Robert called as he reached the hallway, halfway down the stairs he spotted Bryan and decided chasing a pickpocket wasn't going to be on his schedule this morning. Bryan wasn't going to stop for a chat. "Stop, or would you rather me call security about your knack for picking pockets?" Bryan halted then and looked over his shoulder. Now, forgive Robert for expecting surprise, maybe some form of shock or anger. What Robert got was nothing; blank as a newly bought canvas. As Bryan kept his stance on the stairs, Robert caught up and hovered at the first step unsure whether to join the thief or keep at arm's length. As Robert ran through the list of questions he wanted to ask about the interaction, Bryan spoke.

"You have no intention of calling security," he said calmly. Robert frowned, the mental order of his questions jumbled. Wasn't this when Robert should be in control of the conversation? Bryan continued and Robert watched careful to note any expression on his face. "'Cause they'd be here already if you did," nothing yet. "You've got a place, right? We'll talk about your silencing fee there." Nothing yet. Bryan shrugged and continued his way downstairs. Robert could do nothing but to follow. He still had no answers to an ever expanding stock of questions.

So being polite didn't work. Being a complete _Wichser_ didn't work either. "I don't really have any intention of alerting security or anyone else for that matter." Bryan had turned round and blinked at the statement. Did that count as an expression change? Robert sighed and forced a smile on his face, well, the pickpocket hadn't tried to run yet. "I would however like to speak with you on another matter."

Bryan shoved his hands into his pockets and raised his head to the side slightly, "I've got time now," still not even a twitch. Robert could easily pull a power play, demand another time to suit him, another place, but he wasn't even sure if Bryan would reappear. Bryan might vanish and the answer to that little stunt lost forever. So, with another forced smile Robert agreed and decided he'd take Bryan back to the castle and not his current living space. Plus, if this were to get back to his father - Robert inviting a known pickpocket back? Oh, it would be hilarious to see his father fume. Maybe he'd steal something from the castle? This plan was becoming more and more promising.

"Very well, come along," Robert walked ahead of Bryan, although admittedly he was confused at why Bryan wasn't just running away. It's not like Robert really had any intention of blackmailing him when he had no proof, or even chasing after him. Still Robert pulled out his car key and unlocked it. He gave Bryan a curious look when Bryan's face suddenly didn't seem so blank. He liked the car. Or was surprised by it. Or was curious on how much money Robert had as a result. Robert sighed again, he had enough questions. These didn't matter.

For the first few minutes of the drive, Robert's attention was on the road, the other traffic, the sound of the engine and the feel of the steering wheel in his grip. Then glancing to his newest acquaintance he realised how relaxed Bryan was. He had slouched down in his seat, enough to lean his head against the glass with a ghost of smirk on his face. Planning on running off as soon as he stopped the car perhaps? Back to the road, Robert indicated left and by habit revved the engine down a stretch of road before easing off, and finally joining yet another line of sluggish traffic.

"Were you feeling charitable? When you gave Sir Edwin his wallet back." The silence before wasn't uncomfortable or even stagnant but Robert was curious. On many things. But he mused to himself, if Bryan was as sharp as before - knowing Robert's true initial intention - then yes, he'd most likely avoid these questions. Most people would probably avoid them, if in the same position. His father avoided answering any sort of question.

"I didn't need it any more," Bryan was looking around now, poking at this and that, opening the glove compartment and going back to playing with the car system which controlled everything from radio station and SAT-NAV to custom heating. Robert didn't dare to tell him to stop it; he probably wouldn't be in another car like this in his life. Let him have his moment.

"Did you take others?"

"No," Bryan's short exploration was over and he sat back in his seat, his gaze now set on watching the scenery whiz by.

"Why didn't you keep it?"

"I've answered that." Robert shot another glance over to Bryan who at that point had his eyes closed and an arm resting by the window. Attractive came to mind. Bryan wasn't really his type, he preferred the kind of guy who was predictable. Having known Bryan less than a few hours and being confused more than he had by anyone else this week - that didn't bode well for any form of relationship, including the more short lived kinds.

"Then why did you need it?"

"I didn't, in the end,"

A shake of the head and a scoff, Robert couldn't handle people who would answer questions but never really say anything. Bryan didn't seem to be lying. But, what did Robert know? Robert gave a frustrated growl, "Do you always tease the answer to questions or is it entirely for my pleasure?"

"If you don't want teased then don't ask," if Robert hadn't been driving his brain might have shut down at the intrusive thought that flared in his head for a few seconds. Finally grasping at the situation, one where Bryan could not escape, Robert decided to ask the question which had been on his mind the longest.

"How did you get in? It's a private address." A click, one of which Robert could only assume was Bryan's tongue flicking at the roof of his mouth, didn't prepare Robert for the simple explanation ahead.

"I blew the doorman." Robert wasn't a virgin nor a stranger to sexual favours with strangers. But the doorman to the gentlemen's club was however a grim looking fellow who Robert had labelled many years ago as either asexual or in some grotesquely unhappy marriage.

Maybe Bryan was lying? Did he really have any reason to lie though? Why did he- "What... That's..." Robert blamed the car that suddenly cut out in front of him on his failure to grasp the situation. Not the image of green eyes going down on hi- someone, someone like the doorman. However, Bryan's voice suddenly sounded less monotonous.

"Mind blowing? That was the point." Robert didn't even need to look to know Bryan was smug. He scoffed again, not wanting to give off the impression that he was embarrassed or at all phased by the discussion - it was the car and the insistent questions that had slowed his thoughts, nothing more. Not the mental image that lingered either.

"Presumptuous, perhaps."

"Not like they're my words," Bryan shrugged and Robert chanced another glance over. Attractive tease. Still not his type.

"Hearsay for all I know," Robert refuted, maybe Bryan would admit it was a lie? Although with his earlier answers, it was difficult to know exactly why Bryan was even there, why it was so important to get into the club in the first place. More questions.

"Pull over and I'll prove it."

Okay.

Wait.

"You aren't my type," Robert said dismissively as he rounded another corner. He was quite sure he'd parroted the exact same line to someone else last night. A little blonde thing, if he remembered. Said blonde quite liked to jump up and dance anywhere, a little too spontaneous for Robert's liking even if it was just to bring home for a night. Anyway, he'd found a nice redhead that warmed his bed till later that night. His head felt much better than it had this morning.

"Good." At first Bryan sent a glare. At the second glance Robert could afford to take his eyes off the road to check, he was slouching and smirking again, eyes shut. Robert took a deep breath and told himself to just focus on driving from now on. These curiosities just kept popping up; he didn't like this.

* * *

As Bryan got out of the vehicle, he gave a resigned look at it. It was a car he would only dream to have. Or even drive. Fuck, he'd quite happily steal this if he could avoid being caught. The headlights looked more like eyes of a demonic being than anything else with a dark silver body and aerodynamic indents along the sides with tinted windows, whoever made this gorgeous hulk of machinery deserved some form of medal. Don't get him started on car sex, he'd fuck anything in there - firstly, whoever made it even possible to have the engine roar like it did. With a sigh Bryan headed for the main door of this . . . castle. He wasn't so fond of architecture nor the glaring butler, who stood nearby Robert talking quietly enough so Bryan couldn't hear.

The ache of reality set in when he took another step away from the car. His muscles heavy and he assumed the added fatigue was what truly caught him when stealing that wallet. He was lucky, mind, if this guy wanted a few favours done in return for keeping his mouth shut, fine. Bryan had handled worse. The rumble overhead made Bryan awfully aware at how the castle loomed over him with nothing but a bleak invitation of warmth. He had the urge to run a hand along the stone to see if it were as cold as the abbey walls he remembered.

A quick look back - mentally remembering every curve on that car - Bryan gave no attention to the butler he passed on his way inside. Inside was surprisingly bright, light reflected from suits of armour which stood proudly as if they protected the castle from any threat brave enough to slip by the security gates. The grand painting by artists Bryan couldn't name made little impression on him. He began to wonder.

What sort of person takes a stranger home without intention to screw them over? Metaphorical or not. Maybe Robert was naive, or even overconfident. It was obvious Robert could be an asset to anyone who was on his good side. It wasn't good that it was so apparent. The rest of team could find out about this Outsider and attempt to use him. Not like Bryan wasn't going to milk the moron for all his worth - he'd just have to do so subtly. But what if the smiling, almost forgiving natured beyblader was the lie in this scenario? That was dangerous and Bryan kept a mental note to pick apart everything Robert said in future. Useful but not trustworthy.

Robert gave him a reassuring smile, one that did more to put him on edge than anything else. The butler seemed immune to Bryan's presence and ignored him completely without a glance his way. Bryan watched the two carefully, his attention jumping from whoever was speaking in German trying to figure out what was said. Keller the butler said something in his mother-tongue. Bryan knew only a few words of German none of which he heard. Whatever it was, Robert nodded.

"I'll have a quick look round," Robert said and waved Bryan to follow suit into a room. Out of habit, Bryan was going to refuse. Then logically decided to do as asked before any goodwill turned bitter and spiteful. He had enough of that at The Apartment. Edging towards to the now open door he peered in, vaguely wondering what needed Robert's attention. The room in question was a trophy room, lights inside glass cabinets and wall shelves, everything pristine and glossy from polish.

Deciding to do as Bryan normally would, as in, anything he felt like, Bryan picked up a trophy from one of the shelves. A plaque that read: Bejahrt 7, Literaturwettbewerb 1st. As if an alarm had triggered, Keller rushed to his side, "Let me take that for you," he removed it from Bryan's hands gently and began to polish yet again the golden trim.

As if Bryan didn't know what that meant. In order balance this out Bryan opted for picking more of the shit up. Not only that he'd go for changing the order too. To hell with chronology. As Keller had no idea what Bryan just planned he had kept cleaning the plaque and ignored Bryan as he went to another row of cabinets. As soon as Bryan had swapped more trophies, something to do with fencing, history, art and track if the symbols and models gave any indications - Keller realised what had happened.

"Please, _sir, _could you refrain from touching the trophies?" He didn't look at Bryan once, just began cleaning Keller. If he gave any indication on how Robert liked his trophies, Bryan may have just exhausted all goodwill left. Bryan wandered off again and moved some more around, making sure to appear to read the words as if he were actually interested. He wasn't. Bryan began from one side of the room to wander with another, placing them in opposite ends. It was only when he heard a snigger from elsewhere did he remember Robert was even present.

Keller snapped his attention to his employer, who had taken to covering up his amusement with coughing. "Are you quite finished?" Robert asked, a smile - one that Bryan couldn't dismiss as fake for certain - Bryan nodded. "Keller, I'll leave you to clean up." Quickly being shooed from the room, Keller gave another hateful look his way. Bryan just smirked triumphantly back.

"A little childish, don't you think?" For the first time since they'd met - an error on Bryan's part that he wouldn't be discussing with the rest of the team - they walked side by side. Although Bryan admitted his attention was more on what lay ahead of them. Too many doors, too many rooms, too many possibilities. Bryan just wished Robert would either turn round and blackmail him outright and let him know what he had to do, or let him go. Preferably back to the car with the cream interior. That smelt fucking amazing.

"Says the guy who laughed." Bryan refused to be called childish by a man who probably had never been scolded in his life. Snob. With a sour thought of going home, Bryan started to glare everywhere. This guy had it easy. This guy's only worry was what type of tea he had in the morning with his pancakes and pheasant. He should leave as soon as he noticed an exit. This was a waste of time. Wait. Another sour thought of Spencer. Shit.

"Yes well, shall we have a look in the garage? I need to quickly check to see if my father's there."

Fuck it. He'd stay a while.

With a destination in mind, one which Bryan was more than happy to get to it hardly took any time at all. Fuck it. He'd gladly die in this garage. It was larger than The Apartment. It housed numerous cars from sports to vintage. He wanted to drive them all. He wasn't sure which one he wanted to gawk at first. Well, gawk at subtly he wasn't about to act like a child when Robert was watching him so closely.

Bryan wandered around checking all of the no doubt expensive cars. An old vintage car was at the back, burgundy kind of maroon - with a raised hood - Bryan was curious to see the engine. The vibration of his phone jeered him from his newly found treasure trove. At first, he thought it would be a text message. The team rarely called. He accepted it, "What?" he asked taking his time to snoop around other cars. He paused at a bright red convertible with an angular design and headlights which looked like they could raised and lowered. Probably a simple switch inside.

"Take Ian to A&E." His revere of the cars ended then. The fact, the real world had moved on while he was hiding away here, was like a stamp in the gut. Fuck. He swallowed hard. Maybe Tala was exaggerating?

"How bad?" He tried to ignore the extra person nearby. Robert did however seem more interested on tinkering with the vintage car Bryan had looked at previously. He also made sure his voice stayed flat and cold.

"Looks worse than it is,"

"You're the one with the car, Tala." He snapped, his patience was never something he boasted about. Tala's voice flared back just as aggravated.

"I'm not touching him. You take him."

Bryan gave a frustrated sigh. "Trains aren't running, how the fuck am I suppose to get to A&E with him?" Bryan glanced behind him keeping an eye to where Robert was. He didn't need an Outsider becoming involved.

"Don't care," Tala said without a hint of concern.

"Who?" Bryan asked quietly, not because of Tala's infuriating comment but because he felt like he was being watched.

"Does it matter? Take him now, or he can lie in the fucking kitchen all night." Well, Bryan knew only of Ian's apparent injury but even that didn't make much sense. Unless Ian had started something and...

"Where was Spencer?" Tala sounded odd after Bryan had asked. He sounded amused.

"Why are you bringing him up?" Bryan closed his eyes at his mistake and ended the call. Fuck, he was so close to - he let out a growl. Why did this even... Fuck it. He'd have to find a number for a taxi, then somehow pay for it. He could pay their way there but the way back would be more than Bryan had on him or at The Apartment.

He vaguely heard Robert call something out to him and then instinctively caught whatever was thrown at his face. It was obviously a car key. "What is this?" Wasn't this guy meant to be blackmailing him? Why was he allowed to borrow a car? This officially made no logical sense. No one, no one gave cars like these away to people like him.

"An incentive to return? Either way, it sound like you have to be elsewhere." Robert smashed a few numbers into a computer lock and the garage door sprung to life with a motorised hum. "Goodbye, Bryan do drive carefully." Robert was practically gone by the time Bryan realised the car he'd been allowed to drive was the one waiting outside. The silver with cream interior. Well, at least he'd be driving to Hell in style.

Bryan couldn't make up his mind if the car was too fast or too slow. He should have enjoyed the ride back but every nerve was twitching as adrenaline started to pump in his veins. As fast as he could, with as much reluctance as he could bare to slow himself down, Bryan opened the door to The Apartment. It only had one hallway. Three doors at its end, the right to the kitchen, the middle to the living room, the left to a series of bedrooms.

Bryan tentatively opened the door and forced to keep his face neutral, the door collided with a helmet. "You got here quick." Ian said as he grunted in pain. The little shit was holding his side and kept himself in the furthest away corner of the room. He was supposedly taller, older. But with how he was all twisted up? Hell, Bryan couldn't see a difference. He sighed and jerked his head towards the door. Bryan felt awkward at whether he should hold the door open for the limping kid.

He didn't. Ian didn't ask him to either.

As soon as Bryan and Ian entered the elevator, Bryan wanted the safety latches to break. He didn't want to breathe near Ian. He didn't want to talk with Tala earlier. Fuck, the longer he went without seeing Spencer the better. Bryan just kept his head raised watching the neon green numbers count down. Were they always this slow? Ian made another grunt of exertion as he tried to stand away from the elevator wall. It took too long for Bryan to get back to the car.

"Where'd you get the car?" Ian watched Bryan carefully, even though Bryan had taken out the key already and was revving the engine. "You steal it?" Ian sat down and shut the door with as much force as his damaged body could handle. Bryan tried to ignore the gash on his face. The reopened wound on his shoulder.

"Shut the fuck up, Ian - and stop bleeding over everything." Bryan finally started the journey towards A&E, he wasn't sure why he had thought going off with some random guy would make _this_ go away. He wasn't sure what to really do, other than drive Ian to A&E. He was angrier at his thoughts than at Ian.

"Spencer said you'd be whoring out to that knighted old dude." Bryan said nothing in return, Ian might like to act like a kid to lose attention of morons but he wasn't. He manipulated as well as everyone else on the team. "So where'd you get the car?" Ian asked again, shifting in his seat with a huff. His arm still wrapped around his torso. The blood was drying at least.

"I didn't get it for lying down,"

"You must've done something - he'll be expecting something," Ian said matter-of-factly, as if Bryan needed to hear it. Lights became more of a nuisance than anything else. Bryan half wanted to just drive off the edge of a road and see where it took them.

Bryan didn't need more than a few minutes of silence to realise the outcome Robert must be looking for. 'Come to my house, Mr. Thief because ... "He expects I'll steal it." Bryan wasn't sure if Ian looked surprised or if he'd lost more blood than was safe. Either way, he never fired out another question.

Engine noises usually calmed Bryan down. The louder the better but the ebbing feeling of having yet another visit to this place only filled him with an anxiety he'd never felt before. Why did this have to go on? Bryan slowed the car down as he allowed Ian out of the car. Although, Ian kept hold of the opened door for a moment before turning around and speaking.

"Spencer wants to talk to you later," Ian slammed the door and Bryan almost flinched at the sound. He watched Ian limp and hobble forwards, never once looking back, and only thought to park so he had an excuse not to return to The Apartment. Only when Ian's words reappeared in his head he crumbled onto the steering wheel with a hiss, and slammed his fists against the dashboard. Fuck. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down but it was there, creeping up. Panic. Blind furious panic.

* * *

**AN: **What can I say? There needs to be more Bryan/Robert Robert/Bryan fics around.

Yes, Robert has daddy/trust-issues. Bryan has numerous issues. All of which will be explained slowly and in detail 'cause that means they have more time together. And then more banter can happen. Among other things. =D

(^_^) Thanks for reading, review if you have time or notice any mistakes! Essentially answer these wee questions if you're not sure what to say in order to help me as much as possible: Was Robert in character? Was Bryan in character? Was the banter even mildly amusing? Or should I stop trying to me funny? Is Ian in character? Tala? Anything you're wondering about? Ages? Time-frame from anime/manga? When the sex happens? How bloody long will _this_ one be?

Thanks again for reading! See you later.


	2. You, Of Honeyed Words

**AN:**

Cheers to love-sunny88, and CrimsonClarity for the Story Alert _and_ Story Favourite.

Reviews utterly appreciated from CrimsonClarity and ZhangZhangXD. (Which my reply is, Robert isn't just being a brat - he's attempting to be one, on purpose. More detail later. Also, age wise, Ian:20, Kai/Enrique/Johnny:22, Bryan/Tala/Oliver:23, Robert/Spencer:24, OC: Vary (a lot).)

Actually if you're reading: ~(‾▿‾~) Thank ~(‾▿‾)~ you! (~‾▿‾)~

* * *

**You, Of Honeyed Words**

* * *

Robert forgot about his last outing, one that was now smeared in papers nationwide. Page seven wasn't so bad for one night of public humiliation, he'd been successful then, Robert smirked. Why should he even bother any? One life to live, what did it matter some people thought lower of him? Lower of the Jurgens. Perhaps today would be the day dear Father would have an inkling on what he'd done to deserve such disobedience. Hardly an hour after Robert had awoken had Keller fetched him like the faithful servant he was. Father was no doubt going to reprimand him as if he were five and lacked any mental capacity. Robert had no intention to stop his foolish charade until Father uttered just one word. Why it was so daunting for the old man to even utter in Robert's direction was beyond him.

Like usual, Father sat in his study any work of his was now buried under a mountain of various newspapers and printouts from online journals reporting on the 'scandal'. The study itself was dark with mahogany wood, but bright with the large windows open and lights on. Keller had waited until Robert sat down before he excused himself with a nervous paw at his greying hair. The security guard at the door did not, he stayed as still as those knights of armour in the hallways. Father sighed before he spoke. A twinge of regret nipped at Robert's chest but he kept his face as cheery as possible. He was sure his smile faltered for just a second. Really, he didn't wish to embarrass himself or be cruel but this was a very desperate attempt. Father probably knew that too. "Another obscene travesty, I'm sorry to say-" Robert didn't want to hear this, already he knew today wasn't going to end with what he was owed. Those words weren't sincere or calm, they were viscous. Tongue-lashing for today then. No point in trying to have a mature conversation when one party assumed he had the intelligence of a citrus fruit.

Robert reclined in the chair across from where his father sat, "Sorry? Oh, don't worry Father - cameras aren't concealed anywhere. Please don't feel like you have to use such words," Robert gave no his father no eye-contact, he kept his attention on his phone swiping at the screen and pretending to text others smile still forced on his face. The silence seemed like an eternity - the security guard shifted uncomfortably at the door, but never interrupted. Truthfully speaking, even other people talking to others with such boorish language and intention made Robert seethe. Doing this himself went against his own principles which made this whole argument a thousand times worse. It felt a thousand times worse.

"I will apologise, when I've done something to condone it." Robert finally plucked up the courage to look at his father. They shared the same colour of eyes and name. That was it, Robert had argued long ago. He glared, but Father had no doubt seen more intimidating men in his time, he didn't so much as blink at the attempt. Anger never solved things, lashing out tended to cause greater miscommunication. No, Robert just smiled again and snorted trying to fake amusement at Father's reaction.

"The fact you see nothing wrong is truly terrifying, Father." Again, back to the phone although now, Robert wasn't sure he could really leave until Father had said his part. The older man had leaned back in his chair, fingers creating an arch and he watched Robert like he was prey. Today was going to be a long day. Robert had heard his Father's proclamations before, he knew them off by heart and yet he still could not tune those biting words of wisdom that his Father no doubt assumed was for Robert's betterment. Whatever the guard at the door was being paid, it wasn't enough to hear this scolding.

Father never shouted though, it made it all that harder to hear. Robert ignored as much as he could, "-The fact you wish to shame this family is. You are acting out and I won't let you have your way." Robert blinked slowly, making sure the onslaught was finished. His leg was starting to tingle from the awkward sitting position.

"You never did." Robert snapped back.

"I never will."

"I'll try being front page news next time." Robert rolled his eyes and stood up, the security guard at the door shifted again. Before Robert even turned to leave, his father made another comment.

"Keller said you brought someone here. I allowed you to have the condo to have a place to . . . entertain those dead-weights of yours." Allowed. Allowed. Robert slipped his phone back into his pocket, in case the visualization of throwing at his father's head became reality. This whole mess was that, that stupid words fault. 'I allowed you.' Did he really? No longer was anything Robert owned his. No longer was he entitled to purchase and keep anything. Why? Because his father allowed his son to do so. Father didn't want it so it was sold. Father didn't approve, it was gone. Father didn't think it was good enough, to the scrap.

"He happens to be a pickpocket. I gave him the Viper. Oh, wait... That was the anniversary present, wasn't it?" Robert lied, the Viper was still locked away in the garage, he might resent Father but Robert would never involve Mother in their squabbles. Still lying was becoming much easier, it was almost as frightening as the glare his father returned.

Finally a flare of emotion, Father's glare was there and merely by instinct did Robert wished to apologise. No, no, he couldn't. He wouldn't say a word. "You'll get that car back, before your Mother finds out. I swear, if you make your Mother cry, God help you." Finally, some of the resentment that had forever been brewing over the previous few months, Robert snarled back no longer bothered with the audience of one worker.

"You'll sell my organs on the black market? Oh, do make sure they go to the dregs of society, wouldn't want a part of me 'having it easy',"

"You do have it easy. The condo and the monthly payments are hardly insignificant."

It was at this point Robert knew his voice was probably cracking. It always did when he was arguing with Father. They weren't always like this. "I would have gladly given up all of that if-" Robert knew he sounded pathetic. Goodness, why did his father not just see what he'd done?

"-and that's why it's now gone. Enough, I have work to do. Find that car." Robert knew that as soon as Father began to collect the papers on his desk and placed them to the side, this conversation was over. For a few more seconds, Robert watched his father continue the work he'd probably been interrupted to begin with. Father didn't look up and Robert scoffed. Really? What was he expecting? Robert didn't know what to do other than leave the suffocating room. "Foolish boy," Robert heard his Father say as he closed the door. Closing his eyes, Robert took a slow, deep breath in hopes that he wasn't going to turn around and lash out. All he wanted was an apology, was that truly too much to ask for? He wanted his property back. Forget the condo and the money. He wanted _it_ back.

Robert passed Keller, giving no indication of his existence. Robert wanted to forget that discussion ever happened. Last year he'd easily had debates of theology and morality and - and laughed about it. Every second Robert remembered the past, every second he wished he could go back pained him. Not because it was impossible to go back but that for each passing day it became more and more improbable. Only when his father realised his error could they even think to reverse the damage caused. Robert didn't want to back down. He didn't dare think about what his father would assume about that. This acting was wrecking his conscience with moral ambiguity. It might have been a waiting game but Robert was sure there was a timer overhead.

Only when he noticed a familiar car stuck at the electronic gates did Robert's thoughts came to a complete standstill. "What on earth?" Robert frowned, he was certain that he'd never see that person again. He approached the gate with mild curiosity as the idea of a pickpocket returning such an expensive item seemed almost out of character. Still, Robert forced the same smile on his face as he neared. "Bryan? How nice to see you again." Bryan was leaning back against the side of the car, hands crossed and looking as indifferent as always. So, Robert slipped out of the gate, hoping Keller hadn't decided to inform Father about the visitor.

"I checked - no scratches, no money either." Bryan threw the car keys, and Robert tried his hardest not to question why Bryan had returned it at all. He half expected the police to telephone and say it was totalled in an accident in some seedy area of town. But here it was. Here Bryan was. Bryan was waiting, for what Robert had no idea. Regardless, Robert smirked at the idea he'd even bother giving anyone a hard time over a few scratches or missing change.

"Nothing gets past you, does it? I planned on going out for a meal - you're welcome to accompany me." Still nothing, not even a twitch. Now if Robert were to master that, arguments with Father would be very different indeed. Then the questions Robert never managed to ask began dumping themselves over the anxiety he felt. He wanted to chat with Bryan a little more, anything to take the sting off the previous conversation he'd had. He turned away from Bryan opening the driver seat and causally spoke. "Ask all the questions you want." Robert heard the opposing door and Bryan got back in the car without a word, Robert suppressed a smile. The drive was quick and Bryan refused to continue any small talk, a fact Robert took with a grateful afterthought. He wasn't in the mood for chitchat.

Arriving at the fine dining restaurant, one of which Robert was aware his father frequented, Robert handed the valet his car keys and headed inside. Maybe he could ruffle a few feathers here too? Bryan might become self-conscious and agitated here, all the more reason to have witnesses. The more people reporting back to his father of any disputes the better. Even more so now that Bryan's nature had been revealed to him. The Maître d' greeted him with an uneasy expression. Apparently Robert's souring reputation was finally being known.

Blue and white decorated the walls and the furniture, with table sheets with intricate but barely noticeable patterns. Some food and a drink would do well to ease the tension which pulsed in Robert's forehead. If only his father wasn't so stubborn. If only he'd paid attention to the evening surrounding the event, then perhaps the whole incident would merely be a terrible intrusive thought. Speaking of intrusive thoughts, Bryan hadn't skulked inside or even said anything about the rude behaviour Robert had shown at the door. Confident.

As the Maître d' sat the two gentlemen down, now his nerves seemingly focused on Bryan's presence, Robert picked up the menu and began reading. Not very much had changed since the last time he'd been here. "I ain't ordering anything," Bryan didn't bother to so much as take the menu handed to him he just hissed out his answer and turned his attention to Robert.

The idea of a free meal didn't tempt him? Goodness, what had Robert picked up? "If the price is too extravagant: I'll pay." The idea such a statement was anything other than pretentious wasn't lost on Bryan, not with the way those green eyes narrowed. "The wine here is-" Robert was about to read off some examples before Bryan sat forward on his seat.

"You give known pickpockets cars a lot, or what?"

"You returned it, didn't you?" Robert returned the menu and gave his order. The Maître d' thanked him, opened a tasting wine before scurried away with the order and an expression of fear. "At least order something," Robert waved his hand wanting to gain the attention of a waiter. If Bryan wouldn't order then he'd do it for him. He sipped at the wine supplied.

"And you had no idea I would, did you want me to steal it?" Robert almost choked and he coughed into his hand as he placed the glass down. He would not allow Bryan, some pickpocket, to assume such things. No matter how true they may be. Once Robert dared to keep eye-contact, he wasn't sure how to proceed. If Bryan was angry or confused, even curious then Robert knew how to respond.

Cue the blank face yet again. "Honestly," Robert said as he smiled, fake as the ones in his father's office, "I'm sure we can find something to suit your unique tastes." Again he tried to gain the attention of one of the waiters. Who knew acting spoiled would create so much animosity among staff of simple establishments? "It sounded as if you were in trouble,"

"And you decided to help out of goodness of your heart? Bullshit." Perhaps it was the poor start to the day. Maybe even the fact Robert skipped breakfast, or - if he was to be truly petty, then it was because his planned hadn't worked in any regard, but Robert slipped back into his mother tongue and harshly whispered a phrase he knew very well.

"_Beiß nicht in die Hand, die dich füttert._"

'Don't bite the hand that feeds you.'

* * *

Bryan knew when Robert's 'happy mask' shattered for a few seconds, the idea of following him here was a mistake. A mistake that would cost him a few more hours outside, away from the rest of the team but this, still, wasn't going to end well. Robert was half-way through his main course when he started speaking again. "I heard Sir Edwin's manor was broken into the other night. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Ah, shit. Bryan turned to a passing waiter, "Oi, dude! Get me the most expensive bottle of wine you've got," Bryan tried to ignore the fact the waiter looked at Robert for fucking permission as if it was clear who paid the expense. Well fuck them, Bryan growled.

A sigh from across the table, "you really have no manners." No manners? When did Bryan boast he did? When the hell - when did Robert figure this out? No way, it had to be just a flare, just a question so see how he'd react. Well, Bryan was gonna react, if he didn't get his own answers. The waiter returned as Robert began to rub the bridge of his nose and Bryan grabbed the bottle with no regard to its vintage nor if the damn thing ended up 'corked'.

"You got a minute before this goes over you. Why give me the car?"

"Why are you infatuated with my answer? Does it really change anything?" Bryan watched as Robert's slight annoyance escalated. "I gave you it, regardless of my intentions and you returned it with no detriment. The actions are the same, the result is the same." He snarled as he finished, finally no more fake smiles and hidden taunts. "No, I won't tell you because being monopolized by such a simple thought is completely ludicrous."

"Owing anyone - anything - isn't something I like doing," Bryan replied, he had been somewhat grateful to the waiter who'd opened the damn thing already. If Bryan ever had a law to live by it was simply: take and give. If Bryan gave something away he would - he would - take something of equal value. If Bryan took? Shit, well, a quick favour would hopefully come along soon.

"You're not in a position to say otherwise: life has only two choices: you, Bryan, are the kind that is walked upon because you lack anything worth taking and are foolish enough to assume otherwise,"

Well, fuck him.

"Here's what I think, Robert. You wanted me to steal that car." The rage on Robert's face subsided for a moment, and turned confused when Bryan stood up, "Why? Daddy-issues. Insurance-fraud. Fun knowing you can buy it again even if you wreck it. I don't fuckin' care about _that_." The bottle was cold, no doubt been in ice for some time, Bryan wasn't going to keep a hold on it much longer, "I now owe you because you gave me that fucking car - no, not for calling the cops on an apparent thief - not for the flashy damn car. You fucking got involved."

Bryan only bothered with one or two seconds of holding the bottle upside down, gravity did the rest - by then the gasps of horror from other eaters had filled the restaurant. "Enjoy your_ extravagant_ wine." Bryan knew only that this meant either Robert would stay so far away from him, the favour no longer mattered. Or things were worse, however, at least it got the guy off the topic of Sir Edwin.

Upon reaching outside Bryan realised he wasn't entirely sure where he was, or how to even start his journey back to The Apartment. It was only when a very tight grip around his wrist did Bryan suddenly think: it's probably not so important right now. "Get in the car," Robert spoke surprisingly calmly for a dude who'd been shown up in front of fifty others.

Another silent drive, this one however Bryan didn't sit back and relax or gaze out the wind, or listen to that engine purring - he glared at the driver and half-hoped Robert would crash. But the car didn't deserve that. The radio was off, the windows weren't down and the air conditioning wasn't on. It was far too warm in here, Bryan decided. At first Bryan thought the old castle was where he'd be abandoned to make his way home but no. Some 'other' fancy place. How many pegs did this guy need taking down just to be in the same league as everyone else?

Maybe Bryan could continue to lie about the reason he was following Robert around. He was pleased, somewhat, at the development. Even a second out of that hell hole was significant. Bryan glanced at his phone. No text messages, no missed messages, nothing yet. Yet. Robert merely shut the engine off and left without a word. Now, Bryan could very well leave. He could probably still catch a train. He could still go back. No. No way, he followed Robert with no struggle or question.

Outside of what seemed like a very luxurious condo, Bryan wasn't sure if it was simply a very large house or if each floor was segregated. Either way, Robert used some fancy magnetic key to open the front door. Excuse Bryan for being surprised when Robert held the fucking door open for him. What the hell was going on in this guy's head? Initiating flight or fight response; Bryan kept a very close eye on Robert after that. Props to him for keeping fit.

Some stairs, another fancy lock-pad and whoa- Robert must have one hella bank balance. Luxurious might even be an understatement. Robert on the other hand wandered into a room and Bryan wondered if he'd return with a gun. Or something equally as dangerous. Not one to sheepish on such matters, Bryan decided he wanted to know what was going on and leaned against the door frame.

"Did you have to waste it all?" Oh. Bryan wasn't aware they were communicating again.

"You can afford to lose a few hundred." If Robert was trying to make him feel guilty, that just wouldn't be happening. Ever. Why should he feel bad about it? Bryan vaguely noted the amount of wine that had spilled over Robert. The shirt would probably be ruined. Bryan was certain Robert could buy another one. Some of his hair, mainly on one side was stuck to his skin.

"It was a ten-thousand euro bottle, Bryan." Oh. Well, still not guilty. Bryan smirked and shrugged. Robert undid the cuff-links and began undoing the rest of the buttons of his shirt. Bryan might have found Robert to be in need of a few reality adjustments, that hardly meant he couldn't look.

"I'm sure it's the best wine your clothes have ever tasted." A frown, a scoff, a shake of the head, a vague hint of a laugh, Bryan wasn't too sure what to think. In his mind, Robert should be demanding something. Anything to recover from what Bryan had just done. Bryan wouldn't be entirely upset if it was a quickie. Then this could stop.

"I'm sorry, I was harsh and completely at fault." Bryan tried not to snort from the obvious sarcasm. Robert finally met his eye. And boy, it was fucking weird. Hold the fucking phone weird.

"You really are a bad liar." His jaw seemed to twitch, Bryan kept a mental note. Knowing when a person was lying was incredibly useful. Also, the abrupt thought of how that'd feel on his tongue whisked its way through his head. Robert turned his head away as if Bryan'd said it out loud.

"I am not." Robert gave a shrug, whether to his statement or to the shirt, Bryan didn't much care. "Everyone lies." Just dropping the shirt Robert walked off into what appeared to be an adjoining bathroom. Lucky bastard. It was only when Robert disappeared for a moment did Bryan notice he was tensing. Oh for fu- Robert returned with an off-coloured towel and rubbed at his neck. Robert's eyes darted to Bryan for another second, then back to the wiping off the excess.

"When did I lie?" Robert was unusual in terms of what Bryan went for. Bryan liked the easy ones, the low-maintenance, none of that drama, none of the commitment just fun: Robert screamed high-maintenance. Again, Robert challenged him by meeting his eye, Bryan swallowed thickly when the attention lasted longer than he'd suspected. Taking a calming breath, Bryan glanced down the hall for a second.

"Well, I don't remember a particular instance which I can call out for certain. It's just a fact of life." Robert frowned and turned away as he rummaged in the closet for another shirt to wear. Probably picked one out already. He was probably still sticky with the wine. Shit. Bryan wished he hadn't just seen Robert lick his lips.

"You lie because it's easier." Bryan had the urge to taste that damn wine, right fucking now. To hell with the car being too warm this was - this was making his pulse jump. A rough sigh from Robert, another few stares and sheer slowness of the entire thing - made it very fucking clear, he's doing this on purpose. At this thought, Bryan growled, head leaning against the door-frame now, with a frown on his face. Hearing this Robert edged closer, tilting his head the opposite way and swapping the towel to a different hand. Smug fuck.

"If you said whatever you thought, every second of the day, you'd be alone." Bryan attempted to ignore the closeness, the heat, the sight of skin and that damn smell. Height wasn't ever a problem, only when Bryan's partner was so tall his neck would ache after a kiss or so short his back felt stiff. Why Robert probably wasn't even a full inch taller than him. The fact his brain supplied this with such a happy overtone, well, Bryan had to smirk. Robert was his type, physically at least.

"Finally, we agree." Attention was drawn to Robert's throat, he'd swallowed and Bryan had the impulse to bite and see what the hell sort of noises the spoiled made.

"I find it highly doubtful you wouldn't have a friend, somewhere." For a second Bryan wanted to correct Robert. Friends was one of the only thing Bryan was no longer sure he had. But the way Robert's gaze slide down, Bryan was brought back to notice the sudden desire he had to touch something, someone, anyone.

"Is everyone listed on your phone a friend of yours?"

"Perhaps," Robert murmured, a hand gliding from Bryan's chest to his face. No surprise his hands were smooth. Not done a days hard labour in his life. If Bryan wasn't understanding what Robert meant before, the leer which inched its way onto his lips made it very clear. Bryan was very tempted to lean just a tiny bit closer and get going.

The images fluttered in Bryan's head and finally, he couldn't do this. Not, not while they were back there. Taking a sigh then a step back Bryan knew whatever he was going to do - wasn't happening now. If he could bottle the feeling, he'd sell it as mood killer. Anything good killer. Robert seemed undeterred by the rejection, just curious. "It's a give and take scenario. If I take them, they have to take me." Once again the ice-like feeling climbed his chest and froze his expression in apathy for a time.

"Are your trips to the hospital on a rota?" As much as Robert said it as a joke... This, this was once again becoming too personal. Too involved. He'd already said more than he ever thought he would. A quick fuck here and there was nice and simple. Meet up, do the deed, never, ever meet again. Never talk. Simple. Not complicated nor dangerous, for either party involved. Bryan checked his phone. Still nothing. Bryan planned to leave, there and then but as Robert continued to rub his hair with the towel, he spoke.

"Come back whenever you wish - just please . . . refrain from dousing me in old essence of grape again." For the first time in the presence of the moron Bryan laughed, ice momentarily thawed. Although the almost lazy smile that crept its way onto Robert's face helped ease any of the more ill-gotten tension. Bryan stopped when he remembered he had to go home - now. He had to go back. Deciding to leave before he changed his mind, he left the so called condo of Robert's and headed for The Apartment.

He took a train and sat perched, alone, his foot tapping on the floor. What had just happened? One minute acting all high and mighty and the next, what trying to seduce him? Shit, Bryan huffed aggravated and rubbed his eyes with his hands. If Bryan hadn't been reminded of how much shit he was in, he'd have gone for it. Why the sudden change? Oh, wait a minute.

Never did find out why Robert'd given him the car. Shit. Game Over. Another glance at the clock on his phone, it was only eleven. No one would home then, right? As if in a trance, Bryan only noticed the blur of the world and then the front door to The Apartment. A scuffle from inside focused his thoughts. No point in worrying about some spoiled dude who knew nothing. Shit. Someone was home. Who? Bryan placed his hand on the doorknob and tried to quietly open it. He peeked round, at least no one was in the hall. Waiting.

He closed, locked the door. The whole action was laughable when he thought about it. A quick listen and Bryan decided to chance the idea of a sandwich. He opened the right door at the end of the hall and wished he'd just sneaked off to bed. The name came out of his mouth before he realised he'd have gone unnoticed if he'd just closed the door.

"Spencer." For a second Bryan wasn't sure if his brain had abandoned him, or if his feet were trying out a new tactic of keeping him in fucking place. Spencer turned to blink at his presence and then leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

"If you avoid me again, this deal is done," Bryan nodded once and tried to brush the accusation off.

"I wasn't avoiding you, I had stuff to do." It was meant to sound sincere and honest, not pissed beyond all recognition. In response Spencer scowled back and finally the one thing Bryan didn't want was - Spencer took a step closer.

"The dude who gave you the car?" Bryan ignored him and slipped passed him hoping to find some ambrosia, or something as equally satisfying, in the damn fridge. "He's queer?" Bryan turned to watch Spencer carefully. Blocking the door. Fuck. Why didn't he just stay on that train?

"Does it fucking matter?" Bryan kept himself in check when Spencer approached. He couldn't afford to lose anything or give anything away. Keep cool. Keep cool. Every muscle was tense, ready. Spencer shoved Bryan's shoulder into the wall behind him. "Let go," Bryan immediately fought back, but with a punch - a punch that shouldn't have even made Spencer flinch - Spencer backed off holding his stomach.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"Does it fucking matter?" Spencer mimicked a pained smirk on his face nonetheless.

Bryan thought about his options. He sighed and rolled his shoulders. No real damage done. He stepped closer again, instantly tugging at the jumper. "Lemme see, just move it, Spencer." Spencer glared at him, but slowly stood to his full height. Bryan held the clothes with one hand and examined Spencer's abdomen. An instant stab of feeling and then it was gone. "It's infected, go to the hospital, moron."

It was an odd cut, circular and surgical but it was no longer simply red or raw but a tainted yellow encrusted its edges. Bryan hissed and walked out of the kitchen. Bed it was. Spencer grumbled something, Bryan wasn't even sure if they were words. Still Bryan took another deep breath and yelled back.

"I'm getting hot water and salt, you better not cry like a damn baby." If Bryan knew anything about Spencer, he'd be waiting in Bryan's room. Why? Bryan didn't really know, Spencer had the largest room in the place. The only room with a double bed, the rest were singles with very little room to manoeuvre. Bryan's however, was the bedroom closest to the bathroom. The only bedroom to have a lock.

Spencer was sitting on his bed with his back to the door when Bryan came in with a small bowl of hot water with added salt and placed it on the night stand. Bryan had been here before himself. The next few minutes weren't going to be fun; for either of them. While Bryan went away to find a cloth, some bandages and to wash his hands, he instructed Spencer to take his shirt off.

When Bryan came back, Spencer's shirt was discarded and Bryan averted his eyes from the clear damage his back had taken over the past few months. The cloth was small and Bryan made sure to wring it before even trying to put it near the wound. This was going to hurt, stray droplets seeping into other wounds wouldn't help anyone. Bryan tapped at Spencer's knee and Spencer obediently shifted sitting position.

A quick look at Spencer, who sat pensive and merely nodded when Bryan picked up the bowl and placed it on the floor. Bryan squatted down, between Spencer's legs and with another fleeting look up as he dabbed the edge of the wound gently. Knuckles turned white, jaw muscles clenched, Bryan swore Spencer's face went a few hues darker too. But not a sound. Bryan tried to do this whole thing quickly. Sitting in this positing wasn't comfortable nor exactly innocent.

"I'm not doing this on purpose; it's just that bad." Bryan muttered more to himself than Spencer. He hated this. Five minutes no doubt felt like five hours to Spencer, his hands had moved from clenching the edge of the mattress to merely fists. When Bryan felt a subtle heat near his ear did he glare up.

"You smell weird," Spencer sniffed.

Bryan frowned, and pinched at the top of his shirt before sniffing himself. Oh. "I dumped a whole load of real expensive wine over a dude, must of got some on me." Robert's face at the moment the wine hit him, spawned in his head. "His face was fucking priceless-" Bryan grinned and was seconds away from laughing again when the front door was obviously shut. Both of them froze, tense and listening.

Whatever emotion Bryan had felt, died there. Tala walked past the door vague curiosity turning into disgust upon seeing them and Bryan kept his eye trained on the space before him. After a few seconds, Ian poked his head to quickly peek. Ian too left with a look of discomfort and firmly closed the door.

Another hot breeze and Bryan glanced up, his wrist being kept away from the wound in a grip tight enough to bruise. "Stop," Spencer looked awful and sounded just as poorly. But an infection, might cause more complications and pain. Bryan shifted on the balls of his feet, suddenly unsure if he should push or not. But Bryan snatched his own wrist back, dropped the cloth in the bowl and edged back, all when Spencer muttered one word:

"Tomorrow,"

* * *

**AN:**

I've made Robert rather devious. Well, the entire chapter really spawned from he phrase: "You catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than a barrel of vinegar,". Robert isn't someone Bryan can mess with so easily this time round!

I hope Robert's Father was somewhat understandable rather than "ERH MI GAWD U IZ GAYZ!" sort of antagonist.

Next chapter you'll find out the reason why tomorrow is a dreaded word and some flirtation shenanigans between Robert and Bryan. (Among other things).

Thanks for reading! Review if you have time, or y'know any questions or see any mistakes. ヾ(＾∇＾)


	3. No Time For Pride

**AN:**

I swear I love watching viewer/visitors count up over a month. Actually if you're still reading, another dancing troupe for you lovely readers. (And this chapter, of course).

~(◉▿◉~) Thank ~(-▿-)~ you! (~◉▿◉)~

* * *

**No Time For Pride**

* * *

Robert assumed Bryan rejected the idea of tumbling into bed together because of three possible scenarios. Firstly, and most likely, Bryan was involved with someone else. Now, this to Robert gave the confusing trait of loyalty - if Bryan hadn't claimed to have given oral to some doorman earlier. No wedding ring nor tan line, no mention of a significant other. Loyal or not, the second idea Robert had thought of was perhaps Bryan had seen through the guise of the offer. That wasn't some repayment of loaning the car, nope, simply releasing some frustration. They were both adults, feelings weren't entirely necessary. At least, until Robert thought of the third option which made him frown. Bryan could be sentimental, perhaps even naively stupid to assume giving a blow job to someone else didn't count as 'full' sex. If this was the case, then Bryan was now labelled in Robert's mind as adorably tame for someone with such a terrifying reputation in the beyblading world. Adorable. Attractive. Tease. Not his type. Whatever the case Robert only knew his bed was empty and Bryan he wouldn't hear another peep from. Robert had offered out of habit for that hopeful return visit after all. Nothing more.

Imagine Robert's surprise when the maverick appeared downstairs, buzzing up with such impatience Robert let him stand outside for a moment more, with a smile. Bryan wanted to 'crush' or 'crash' on his couch, no less. Three days had passed with little to no scandalous events - minus an overzealous fan trying to sneak a shot from the owner of the upstairs floor, a rather glamorous model. Robert let him up with no hesitation after watching him on the camera, his excuse: hollow entertainment at best. Having never had to meet a rejected - possible available - guy again, Robert wasn't sure how to greet him or even speak. Bryan took care of that by sleeping on the aforementioned couch. Any comment on Bryan's well-being was returned with a grunt until eventually no reply returned.

Moments after realising this Robert sat down in the kitchen with nerves twitching through him. A spoiled, horrid person would wake him up and demand the favour. But Robert reasoned with himself, Bryan had plodded in with dark eyes. If he woke him, what did it truly achieve? His father wouldn't think of anything - this would never reach his ears. Robert had wandered his home, unsure where to be. Thoughts still struggling to come to a decision. What if he woke Bryan 'accidentally'? Surely he had somewhere better for a nap than his place. If he fell through on the spoiled act then he might end up too disgusted at himself to return to it. No, he couldn't lose himself in this. Bryan could sleep for a while longer.

Truthfully Bryan was silent, Robert expected snoring or the sound of the occasional murmur or rustle of movement. Nothing, out cold, eyes flickering behind eyelids with his hands tucked under his head, dreaming. Speaking of which, Robert's eyes noticed a mark on his wrist. Bruises? Bryan had been grabbed, hard. Wait. Robert flinched. Oh dear, this was not happening. This had to be his doing, after all Robert had been infuriated with Bryan at first - but soon realised such a spectacle worked in his favour. Robert was well aware he'd grabbed Bryan and dragged him in the direction of the car that night. A quick check to make sure Bryan was still sleeping and Robert sighed. Having hovered around him whilst sleeping, Bryan waking up now, wouldn't have been an ideal conversation. Robert would have walked away, curiosity sated but guilty, until he saw something else.

Bryan might have kept his jacket on but he'd unzipped it and Bryan might have had a t-shirt on, but it rested low on his collarbone. It wasn't a natural mark either, no random bruise - from a love-bite or an oddly placed bump - it was as if an object had been pushed down with great force. It looked similar to scales from a reptile the only exception was the bruises were uniform in shape, size and in a neat line. Small, somewhat oval, eight or so in a line. From what Robert could see, he edged a little closer again watching Bryan's face to see if he'd been disturbed by the very gaze. Still sleeping soundly. Adorable. Attractive. Tease. Not his type. Smelt like temptation itself. Not his type.

What on earth were these marks? Now Robert had a second look, where the unharmed skin met bruises, the pale skin flaked up and around. Damage had been done enough to cut, else the skin would simply be red and yellow. Odd.

Before fate decided to humiliate him, Robert sat on the opposite couch, flicking through newspapers wondering if his family name popped up anywhere. After three different papers, Bryan stirred and woke with a jolt, throwing his feet onto the floor with force. Robert jumped in surprise and he decided then the paper was no longer interesting. If Robert were to assume anything, Bryan was either very clumsy or he had at some point been attacked. Self-harm maybe, an odd instrument to choose? Whichever reason, Robert wanted to confirm the still obvious mark on Bryan's wrist. Robert did it and once again he felt disgusted at another action he'd performed to rile his father.

So not to cause more agitation to the groggy Bryan, Robert cleared his throat. Bryan glared at him for a while - forgetting this was Robert's home and not his. "I . . . did I do that?" Robert said, still picking away at his guilt. Never thought he'd hurt someone, never thought he could do unknowingly cause such damage-

Robert lowered his head, about to offer an apology. "No," Bryan said, and Robert saw out of the corner of his eye as Bryan had yanked his sleeve down and pawed at it until he zipped up his jacket, injured skin covered and glancing around. Nervous about his surroundings? Robert doubted it.

"I mean to say, I remember grabbing you and-" The speech was simple. 'And I feel utterly terrible for doing so - that wasn't supposed to happen. I'm sorry.' Heartfelt but not sappy or overcomplicated. Bryan stood up and stretched, Robert didn't mind watching him for a bit; he could have done without the crackling bones; wouldn't mind a repeat of the noise Bryan made though.

"It wasn't you." Instinct made him watch Bryan again, his voice was much less forgiving, colder. Much more awake now. Robert smirked was it really going to be like this? Well, he would certainly play this game. Bryan had to be lying. What were the chances of being grabbed twice in the same place within the time frame of three days?

"It wasn't?" Robert repeated, he wasn't certain why Bryan was refusing to acknowledge if Robert had harmed him. Robert was rich, maybe Bryan thought he would be treated differently if he complained. Throw him out and never allow him to drive the car again? Either way, the sickly squirm in his gut made Robert shift in his seat, "who was it then?" A random name, a pause, anything to indicate Bryan was lying. On the other hand, when Bryan finally met his eye Robert froze like he was mere quarry. Skin prickled and Robert blinked when he took a few large steps forward.

"Bryan?" Robert held his breath when Bryan sat next to him, he grabbed at Robert's hand - his fingers were rough, not that Robert minded - and sided it towards his own. Up came the sleeve again. The bruise was longer, thicker and if Robert could tell anything, it was probably made by the opposite hand, pulling in a different direction. So, it wasn't his doing? So, Bryan had been grabbed again within such few days? Was the other mark caused by the same incident? If it were older that would mean... That would...

Robert hovered his hand over it, just to make sure he was deducing this correctly. No matter how he grabbed him with his left hand did the mark make any sense. Oh. Robert had been wrong and with several more questions popped into his head. What happened? How did- Oh, yet another barrage of questions. Joy.

"Well, I do hope it doesn't hurt, in fact - I'm sure there's painkillers in the kitchen." Robert stood up and decided that by medicating Bryan he should have absolutely no reason to feel guilt. When Bryan opened his mouth to speak, the small crease on his brow, Robert decided to argue the point, "Oh, do stop with the bravado for just a second. You can take them out of the box if it puts you at ease." Robert spoke quickly, a little surprised when Bryan gave no retort. Excellent. Wonderful. This had to be the first time Bryan did as Robert wanted. Well, even if it didn't help Robert's 'plan', it was a small victory.

Bryan had read the packaging carefully and then reread it. Finally, Bryan just took one pill and that was it. Disgusting to think he'd taken the tablet without water - the after-taste was revolting. Anyway, all victories desired some acknowledgement or reward and so, still feeling the guilt Robert held up his car keys. Even if it had no reason still to linger in his head, Robert wanted Bryan to have some enjoyment when he was with him. If Bryan was the type to disappear, then Robert would certainly appeal to a certain trait in order for Bryan to hang around. Easy enough.

"You can drive pretty much anywhere, but don't endanger anyone else and I'll be coming along. Just in case."

It was the most curious and attractive sight to see Bryan - actually anyone - talk about what he was passionate about. Bryan's blank face switched, as if emotions were momentarily allowed, and he was gleeful. Glee. From Bryan. Fair enough, it was about Robert's car. Fair enough, it wasn't for another human being. Wait. Was this expression possible in regards to other people? Did or had Bryan ever felt so enthusiastic about another person before? Robert was stunned as the keys were snatched from him.

"That's the first thing I've heard you say that doesn't sound like bullshit,"

Robert placed on his own usual mask and smiled. The questions were becoming rather too focused on Bryan himself and not the act which had instigated all this. Bryan trotted down the hall and down the stairs towards the car, more than pleased with his prize and Robert followed with his brain still asking about Bryan's emotional capabilities. Blank canvas to an expression of such, of such grandeur. What else made him make that expression? It would be highly unlikely to be just cars. There must be a person too. Had to be. Who?

As Robert settled into the passenger's seat, Robert decided to test the waters a little. After all, Bryan had thrown wine over him. A quick flirt didn't do much in terms of patching this blunder up. "Do you want this car? No strings attached." Bryan looked disgusted with the idea. "Why not? You like the car. You won't owe me anything." Robert was glad the condo didn't go out onto a busy main road else the speed Bryan jumped to would have caused a crash. Thinking more on his safety than anything else, Robert decided to end this branch of discussion.

"There's always strings attached." Bryan's expression darkened. The only fact Robert gained from this was Bryan had trust issues and with all trust issues, emotional baggage followed. Whether this was because of a self-depreciating way of thinking or the more concerning ideology that no one ever could be trusted due to past experiences, Robert wasn't sure. Either one didn't bode well. Always an easy way to test this of course: pay Bryan a sincere compliment. The problem was Robert wasn't sure what to say without it sounding like a come on and knew very little about Bryan other than appearance. Best put that idea on hold.

"Then, forget it. If it makes you suspicious, I won't suggest it again." Well, that was still odd. Bryan loved cars. Bryan didn't like favours. Giving one away without any real meaning should have Bryan jumping up and down like an excited child. Not the correct assumption then. Robert sat back and let Bryan do as he wished for the first ten minutes, taking winding back roads or high speed motorways, whichever allowed him to drive as freely as possible. Best let those painkillers put Bryan in a better mood.

From nothing to glee to gloomy back to blank. Well, Robert wasn't too sure he liked this change, time to see if the previous attempt at enticing Bryan was more to do with technique than the result of a warped code of loyalty or honour. Robert tried his best to sound casual, "It's unfortunate I never brought the Corvette, I would never offer it in the first place."

From the traffic which began to slow and eventually halt Bryan into a bored state, he rested his chin on the steering wheel. Crawling along Bryan sighed, "Favourite or something?" Robert wasn't sure why he should even be pleased with a mere glance in his direction. Glad to know the thought of conversing wasn't too painful for him.

"I lost a lot of firsts in it."

"I lost a lot of firsts against a brick wall; doesn't mean I keep it," Bryan scrunched nose up, and the pause allowed Robert to push a certain brick-walled fantasy out of his head, "firsts of anything are damn awful either way." Robert laughed freely, not only at Bryan's expression but at his own memories. Fumbling, no technique and all gusto. Didn't last too long either if Robert remembered through the haze of anticipation and desire. Not anything special if it hadn't been simply 'the first'. "So, how old were you?"

"Sixteen: I ended up staying in Scotland for a while, turned out to be more eventful than I first thought. Now, what about you?" Robert thought back to Jonathan and the rest. It was the first time any of them uttered a thought of going to the more 'grunge'-like pubs and clubs. Good decision in the end. Bad decision to remember them.

"Nineteen. Russia. Slightly obsessed fan. Not worth the bother afterwards." Robert could only imagine what the problems were, possessive perhaps? Assumption of a newly established relationship? One of them for sure, Robert had been there before. Suddenly Robert had the inclination to rattle Bryan, poke a stick at him and see what happened. He tried his best not to grin at the thought and glanced out of the window. The queue of traffic finally moving. Poke. "Bit of a late bloomer then." Poke. Now, to see what the results were.

Bryan snorted, "I've more than made up for it the past few years."

Definitely not a self-depreciating bone in Bryan's body. So, he just didn't trust anyone overall then but he must have friends. Impossible not to. "Of course you have." Robert chuckled away to himself. Losing Bryan's attention as he turned to the road again irked Robert for a while, Bryan's reactions were lacklustre compared to simply handing him keys. With the conversation lulled into silence, Robert tore through his thoughts and wondered just how could he encourage Bryan to return. Everyday he spent with Bryan was another day Keller reported back to Father. Still spending time with a pickpocket? Yes, now do start making arrangements to reconsider this nonsensical situation.

"Bryan," Robert really didn't know how this question could be asked without sounding like Robert was interested, wait, he might. Yes, that might work. "I don't suppose you're free tomorrow night as-" Bryan was about to snarl again, "-VIP sections of nightclubs don't tend to be any fun if there's no one to drink with. Everyone I know is currently . . . engaged," Lies of course. Lies, lies, lies. The VIP area wasn't but the thought Robert would flounder without someone to accompany him was hilariously contrived.

"If you are interested you can drop in again - around nine. I'll drive us there," Bryan didn't really reply. He'd acknowledged the words with a shrug and a pensive look. Yet another surprise today as Bryan pulled into the side and cut the engine dead, he took the keys and left the car. Curiouser did Bryan's actions become the longer Robert stayed with him. So, Robert followed giving a quick look to the area. A one-way street with residential houses, no one else on the road or in the streets. By the time Robert hopped onto the pavement, it was Bryan holding the keys up, waiting for Robert to take them. Odd. That was going on the list. Odd behaviour. Odd reactions. Odd personality.

As Robert reached out to take the keys, Bryan pulled them closer. "Robert, next time," Bryan said, smirk twitching on his lips, was he originally so close? No. Must have leaned in. Still smelt like temptation. Wasn't his type. Didn't really matter, "bring the Corvette," naturally the volume of Bryan's voice dropped to a suggestive murmur and Robert found it difficult to swallow, "and we'll see if you improved any." Robert mimicked the movement forward but, Bryan jerked back and simply said, "Idiot," as he chucked the keys at him.

Snorting out of frustration, Robert shook his head and muttered, "Demon." The grin spread over Bryan's face might have been worth the wave of embarrassment. Personal embarrassment, unrelated to the plan - Robert felt his old self kick in and scold him for this travesty. As Bryan turned, Robert took his arm just above the elbow, and stopped him dead. Bryan's eyes dilated and Robert couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

"I suggest you finish what you start, Bryan. All bark and no bite?" He thought what was under the collar of Bryan's jacket and he knew what he would have preferred over the prospect of a kiss, an answer to the dreaded question: how did that happen? As much as Robert was goading him into the kiss, if Bryan shrugged him off this time, it would sting. A quiver near his gut made Robert very aware at how the heat practically rolled off Bryan's body. Laughter long gone from Bryan's face, he just watched Robert until Robert couldn't take it anymore.

Robert let go and went back to the car.

When Robert looked out, after belting up, Bryan was on that ancient phone of his again, not answering a call but tapping the buttons with a frown. Was that because of the message or Robert? Robert sighed and waited, thank goodness the air conditioning was on and cold. Kissing Bryan wasn't going to help. Kissing Bryan served no purpose, he couldn't let one person sidetrack him.

* * *

Bryan knew once he'd hung around Mr. Spoiled all day yesterday karma would have a word with him soon. He wiped at his face trying to forget the sensation. Not everyone flushed bright red when humiliation was felt, and Bryan was one of them. Thank genetics. Rejecting Robert was fun, had been so fucking funny. Then Robert did the exact same thing two seconds later. Shit, how did he even think of falling for that? Bryan underestimated him, now he knew. The little smiling, spoiled, naive dude was the mask. Why he opted to pretend? Who cares? Bryan had more important thoughts than-

"I fucking hate this team!" He flinched at the sound of Ian and hopped off his bed. He heard Tala's voice too, though it wasn't as clear so he unlocked the door and poked his head out. "Fuck off." Again, this wasn't just some disagreement Bryan could easily defuse. This was all or nothing. It only took a few seconds to get to the living room, centre stage to all the noise.

"Just die," Ian hissed back and it was clear in a few paces both Ian and Tala would be fighting with fists instead of words. Bryan took action, knowing fine well this was one of the only times he had even a glimmer of hope. Maybe he'd be lucky. This was like betting on a horse, yeah, that's it. Except Bryan's damn horse didn't have any legs. He shoved the two of them away before they reached one another.

And they're off; out the gates!

The looks he received were venomous, confused. Spencer was here though, and he watched with vague interest from across the room. Well, Bryan reasoned maybe his horse had a prosthetic leg. "Oh, yeah? Come over here you shit, I'll-" Bryan saw Ian's move forward at Tala's threats and decided the first hurdle would be to stop this shithead from making it worse. Not as if it could get much worse. Bryan did what he always did, he was behind Ian promptly and with each hand he seized hold of Ian's hands. Then he pulled. Hard. Much like how a crazy guy would be hauled off with a straitjacket. To say Ian allowed this would be like saying Ian allowed his horse to be shot on the running field . . . as it was still running. It might have even looked hilarious if murderous intent wasn't floating around the room making it hard to think.

And Spencer's horse might have rejoined the top runners after a slow start!

Spencer had already moved and incapacitated Tala from advancing, an arm out and standing still and terrifying in his height, gave Tala little choice in strategy. So, the redhead yelled abuse. Not just at Ian anymore. No, everyone was fair game now. Bryan knew some of those were for him. Not just swears, nah, the horrid shit - everything ever told, fired back laced and presented with a bow of hatred. Tala always was the 'detail' kinda-guy.

And Ian's horse was being pushed to the finish line!

Bryan's trouble increased. Ian after all was no longer a little shit any of them could shove and push to suit their whims. A twenty year old Ian could punch anyone in the face with little regard to any rule anywhere. And this time, it would hurt. Ian also had a kick like a fucking mule, easily breaking and snapping doors and indenting walls. Now was no time to allow him any retaliation. Bryan dragging the still, kicking and yelling Ian backwards, his fingers turning red as he dragged. Fuck, fuck, fuck Ian was slipping out of his grip. Tala at least was the only target in Ian's sight. Bryan knew if he let Ian go he wasn't going to go after him. What happened after that? Well, Bryan would go to his room and lock his door and forget this fucking happened. Forget he'd failed.

Bryan's horse is falling behind!

Thinking of the outcome of failure, made Bryan grasp even tighter - his hands felt frozen and stiff - and he started talking as he hauled Ian down the hall, into his room. In return, Ian kicked at the floor and slammed Bryan back into the door with little concern.

"Oft!" Bryan breath was stolen. "Take it easy!" Just the constant roars of rage and frustration Ian wasn't going to stop. Bryan was hoping the brat would calm after Tala was out of his sight, this was exhausting. Again and again, Ian raged and stamped back, but Bryan eventually stopped moving away from the door entirely. "Stop, Ian." Bryan could feel Ian's irregular breathing and heard the hisses, "Calm it." Bryan couldn't really handle much more than this. Doing a marathon would have been easier than restraining him. Fuck. Ian must have gotten him on the way in, his shin was killing him. Fuck. By now, Bryan regretted his decision. Why the fuck should he even have bothered? Why should he attempt this when Ian was probably going to turn on him?

Bryan's horse is exhausted! It just can't keep up!

"I fucking hate this! I hate this shit!" Ian's shouted at the ceiling and the stamping didn't stop. In fact it was worse. Now the real worry crossed Bryan's mind. It was possible, Ian would break free and it would be entirely probable for Ian to take out his anger on said tiring Bryan. Ian had to know that. Bryan had to stop any and all movement. Waiting for a chance, and Bryan was going with one chance to do this right, he rested himself back against the door and swiped at the back of Ian's knees.

Bryan slid down against the door and thankfully whatever fighting spirit Ian had, seemed somewhat stunned for the few seconds it took to slide to the floor. "Enough," Bryan pleaded knowing he probably sounded as if he needed to go back to bed. He didn't have much time left until he was finished.

Bryan's horse has lost its only leg!

Another struggle, this one much more mild considering Ian had his legs now in front of him instead of under him. The bed was hit and it recoiled in response. Another growl of suppressed rage. "Let fucking go..." Ian muttered back, breath louder, harsher. Bryan didn't want to admit it, but Ian sounded more heartbroken over not fighting than angry at whatever the whole deal with Tala was.

Tala's jockey has died!

"Not till Tala's calmed down." Bryan knew Ian could hear the fight in the living room now. He placed his chin into Ian's shoulder and both of them sat and listened, still as possible. Bryan didn't think he even had the energy to let go. Thuds and yelling, more thuds and more yelling. Thud, thud, thud. Swear, Thud, Thud. Silence. Slowly, Bryan closed his eyes and knew the horse analogy was shit. The horses weren't running forever. The horses weren't tripped up and stabbed in the flank by the others. The horses didn't have self-doubt and paranoia and - shit, what a shit way to think of all this in. The horses weren't dying with every step they took into this madness.

A bang happened nearer to Bryan's room than he would have liked and he clasped hold of Ian, keeping him in place, and wondered if Ian'd turn against him. "Stay still," Bryan whispered and strained to hear if either Tala or Spencer had calmed. Bryan wasn't expecting an answer but got one - the one he didn't want to hear.

Ian finally stopped twisting about only for him take a deep breath and say, "We can't fix this." Any plan of a struggle diminished once Spencer and Tala were heard yet again yelling. Or maybe, Bryan thought, Ian felt exactly like he did. No point in attracting unwanted aggression, they were somewhat safe in this locked room. Ian had finally went rather limp in his grasp, a clear surrender in their world. Still, Bryan was incredibly hesitant to even ease off the tension of his grip. His arms said differently, they burned, they wanted rest. His shin wanted ice or painkillers. His back agreed.

"Ian just... shut up." Testing if Ian was merely faking his placid temperament for the moment - Bryan let go slowly keeping a very close eye on Ian's hands. Ian stood up and wandered a few feet away. The room hadn't ever felt so confining.

"You're always out," Ian said as he flexed his hands and rubbed at his wrists. His voice wasn't curious or concerned but accusing.

"I owe someone a favour, that's all." The only reply Bryan received was a shake of the head. For the longest time Ian sat on his bed and he sat on the floor. Waiting. Listening. Watching each other with unsure gazes.

"Do you really think we can all go back? To how things were before?" Ian said and Bryan was now overly-conscious to the fact Ian was actually still younger. Maybe this was one of those times Bryan was meant to tell him some hopeful shit to ease anxiety.

"If you can forget enough, sure, why not." The hope in his words fell flat, for both of them. The conversation died when another barrage of shouts echoed from the living room. Bryan wasn't sure whether Ian looked uncomfortable over the pain he was no doubt in or if the fact they were both here alone. Never had Bryan thought Ian would ask another question, one that sounded dreadfully like pleading.

"_How_ do you forget?" Pitiful question. Difficult question. Bryan clawed at his head and now, fuck, he didn't want to be in this room either. Images Bryan wished he could forget forced their way to the front of his mind. He might genuinely be sick here and now.

"I haven't found a way yet." Bryan said, hoping he was quiet enough for Ian not to hear his answer. Ian looked like he'd taken a punch to the gut. That was the last thing they spoke about. The slamming of the front door sounded the end of - of whatever this was - and Bryan inched away from the door. Whoever the victor was, it would decide on whether or not the lock was necessary.

"Tala's gone. Ian, you can leave too." Spencer said through the door, and with the information Ian and Bryan didn't look at each other again. Hell, Ian couldn't leave the room fast enough. Once the front door slammed again, Bryan finally replied and placed his head back against the wall.

"Give me an hour." Staring off into space, Bryan did not allow one single worry, or flare of anger to ignite. His legs were dead, he shouldn't be sitting on the floor like this. The first quarter of an hour of his freedom was wasted by thinking of nothing. Just resting, keeping quiet, keeping himself from saying a word out against the too soon be arrangement. He knew as soon as he thought, consciously, of the situation, he'd start to panic. Panic never did anything good in these scenarios. Best get it over and done with. What exactly could he say? Bryan was the one that agreed to it, _made_ it. He had offered. He suggested. Still didn't mean he had to like it. But each and every time the hour was upon him, Bryan wondered over Ian's constant fears. Would this ever end? Was there any fixing them? Was there any point to this whatsoever?

What a terrifying thought. Bryan plodded into the bathroom and put the shower onto the coldest setting. For a second he remembered he always assumed his body wouldn't change. Age, maybe. Change? Scars, scalds, burns, raised scaly and rough flesh were it shouldn't be? No. Never. He thought about it, a lot. Especially when he was out of this damn place. A shaking breath when he realised too, he couldn't really look at himself anymore. Every wound reminded him of a fact: it wasn't okay. None of them were okay. They were all fucked. Everything was fucked.

Sometimes, Bryan wanted to leave. Telling the team to forget it. Biting his lip, he wondered if they could even be called a team. When was the last time they bladed? The water turned his skin paler, and once Bryan shuddered and he hopped back out, reluctant to look at a clock. Had to though, he just had to. Almost time, best get ready, best prepare. On autopilot Bryan was still in the play he'd acted out so many times before. A quick shirt to cover up the one place he didn't even want to think about never mind have someone else even see it. His back was the worst.

Shoving the rejected shirts back into the drawer of his bedroom dresser, he realised he had much fewer than he thought. Plenty of them were binned over bloody stains and torn fabric. The only thing about his room which offered comfort was the floor, it dried his feet. Air made his damp skin even colder. Knocking at the ajar door jerked him out of his thoughts, which suddenly spun into a frantic slurry of excuses. Tell Spencer to leave. Get him to back off. Tell him to fuck off. Hit the bastard. Run. Coward. Get it over with. Bryan glanced over and saw a grim looking Spencer sigh. The evidence of the fight was on his face, Tala had certainly managed a few well-placed hits. Bryan didn't really want to see Tala. In response, as cold as he could muster Bryan just shrugged at him. His hair was still wet and his skin still chilled, the shirt turned darker with the added moisture in places. It wasn't comfy, but Bryan preferred it this way. He would not allow himself to enjoy or find reassurance in anything to do with this deal.

"You done?" For a moment, Bryan thought he heard sadness, or maybe pity. Focusing on it being the latter, Bryan scoffed. This worked out for both of them. Equal benefits. Benefits which Bryan needed if he wanted to survive. If Ian was to have fought with Tala this morning, if Spencer had not intervened along with him... Ian and Tala would have ripped one another apart. Even if Bryan chose to stop, chose to stand between them it wouldn't be unheard of them both turning on him - the one who interfered. No one was suppose to take matters into their own hands. No one fought another's battle. It was just how it always was. Spencer was required. Spencer was necessary for his plans, current and future.

"Let's hurry this fuck up: literally," Bryan said, turning around and wandering over to the desk. He was happy at some house rules made, others not so much. Spencer always used a condom - granted the 'so I don't catch some queer disease,' excuse was punch-in-the-face worthy but hell. Bryan thought the consequences of not. Clean-up was quicker too. The main reason: it'd be weird, awkward weird if Bryan had to deal with Spencer's fluids afterwards. Not happening. Bryan didn't even want to think about the possibility. Gross. Fucking gross. The table thing, he was relieved at. Being fucked in his own bed made him want to vomit. He took people he found attractive to bed - that _he_ wanted. Not, not Spencer of all people.

One of the more annoying unspoken rules was sometimes, Spencer would shove Bryan's face to the table with so much force at times a bruise would appear. Or twist an arm up his back. What Bryan assumed Spencer did it for was Bryan then had to hold his head to the side awkwardly. It hurt. And Bryan couldn't do much other than bare his teeth and bite something. The hell was he going to make any noise.

Bryan just pressed arms to the table, hand over a fist and ready to bite if necessary. Was it really wrong to hate the sound of a door locking? Take a deep breath. Was this really the sort of shit he'd been reduced to? Bryan clenched his jaw tight. Done this plenty of times before, no need for the nerves to scratch at his stomach.

Even if - even if this whole idea was technically a lie, technically just an unwritten rule that allowed a form of peace, that gave Bryan a small portion of power and purpose? Then, yes. Go ahead, Spencer. Even if this power was a delusion? Go ahead, Spencer. Even the delusion of power was worth something. At least he could prepare in advance tactics to survive. From the argument this morning compared to the worst thing Bryan had ever seen? Go ahead, Spencer. Bryan knew he'd do this a thousand times over before sitting back and stop trying to fix things. He'd die before he stopped trying. Bryan closed his eyes, took a deep breath and thought about - a clink of metal from a belt - the car. Bryan bit his hand after he felt Spencer dig his nails onto his hips. The car. The car. Think of that fucking awesome car.

* * *

**AN:**

I'll leave you with the knowledge of Bryan willingly whoring himself out to Spencer for...? I'll reveal more details on that later. =x Just going to say this now: never, ever, ever does Spencer fall in love or is in love or has any remote inkling of romantic or sexual desire for Bryan. Different emotion driving this, from both of them. Is this fiction messed up? Of course, I wrote it. It has Bryan in it. It has the DBz crumbling in ways they understand but can't do anything about.

I'll attempt to write the next chapter ASAP. If you're curious, it's mainly in a nightclub and you'll see the extent of Bryan's injuries. Along with some insight to what exactly is going on. But flirty-banter from Bryan and Robert! =) Woo.

Thanks for reading! Review if you have time, or y'know any questions (or shock horror reactions - those would be fun to read) or see any mistakes.

ヾ(＾∇＾)

* * *

Guest/Anon replies now:

ZhangZhangXD: I won't say 'don't be worried,' and I won't tell you anything about Sir Edwin just yet but what I will tell you is that Tala/Ian do not share any horrendously violent homophobic views either. And yes, I couldn't agree more - Bryan missed out. =| Silly dear he is. But - I'm sure they'll be more opportunities. Although, hope you aren't even more ''uncomfortable'' now haha. Thank you for the review; it certainly motivated me writing this colossal chapter. ^-^

Guest(Cloy): Kai and Tala are pretty darn amazing too. I find Tala makes such a good anti-hero - or the actual antagonist to a story. And thank you so much! I'm always a little anxious over how Robert comes across in dialogue, so I'm really glad to read/hear that it's believable. ^o^ Johnny and Kai are certainly in this fiction. Although they might not appear for a while, the Majestic's aren't going to, for a while yet. I wish I could give a more definitive answer but I'm still drafting certain events together and it's still up in the air. Thank you for they review!


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